Author Archives: Shannon


About Shannon

Alaskan homeschooling mama of eight sweet kids. Loves Jesus, writing, coffee, Dickens, and snapping a kitchen towel at my husband when he's not looking.

we are the house on fire: how we stay alight

Posted on by July 9, 2024

I sat in the parking lot with Finn and Kav, waiting for the bus of campers to arrive. The boys were great but it was hot and muggy, and I was the whiny one. I’d skipped breakfast, wasn’t feeling well, and was starting to lean toward the exhausted and hangry side of things. A quick search in the car for snacks only produced a couple tins of mints.

Finally, I saw the girls, who had pulled into the other parking lot and gone through the opposite side of the building, and started to spill outside into our parking lot – and I tried to flag Cham down, but missed, and she went back in.

Ughhhh, fine. We got out to fetch her, and found her just inside. Hi, hugs, ready to go?

“I don’t think I can go yet.” She looked at her camp leader, who was on the phone listening to someone.

I raised an eyebrow, and the leader gave a tired smile.

“Okay,” she said into the phone, “so you want me to ask them…if they encountered God…and if they want to share a testimony?” Ah, talking to our youth pastor.”And see if they want to…record it…on a video?”

My extremely unspiritual response was, Ohh, no way. I had been sitting in the parking lot for twenty-five minutes, having hot flashes in a sweatshirt while trying to entertain two boys and wondering how many calories could be gleaned from an entire package of Altoids. I didn’t care if the campers saw angels, were slain in the spirit, or raised the dead; I needed to get home, eat some food, and probably go to bed.

Isn’t that terrible?

we are the house on fire: how we stay alight | Shannon Guerra

Every month, my premium subscribers and I have a q&p (which stands for question and ponder because I don’t need more pressure in life) and last month someone asked how we can keep from burning out, from losing our fire. We talked about people we respect who seem to have lost their first love, who used to be spiritually mature but now feel heavy to be around, who somehow waned, who seem more focused on problems than Jesus.

So, what causes that? How do we not end up there? And how can we help them return?

Hard questions, no easy answers, especially when we recognize our own struggles with just being tired and hangry. But let’s hash out a handful of them.

fear…or, worship of safety

We talked about how there’s a pooh-poohing tendency among some who’ve lost their fire, who walk in fear versus walking in love because safety is revered more than Jesus. And when safety is the idol, unfamiliarity can breed contempt.

Many fire starters seem dangerous and unfamiliar – new methods, new speakers, new worship styles…but also, old methods and routines (like prophecy or fasting or praying in tongues) can feel threatening to someone’s careful bubble of propriety if they’ve never experienced them before.

Sometimes people have weak beliefs that they don’t want challenged (or exposed) by those unfamiliar things. Further, they often don’t think other people could handle being exposed to them, either – which is fear-based control.

But we don’t walk in fear; we walk in love, and perfect love casts out fear.

So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. By this is love perfected with us, so that we may have confidence for the day of judgment, because as he is so also are we in this world.

There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.

– 1 John 4:16-18

We still tend to face two trees – the tree of knowledge of good and evil, versus the tree of life – and sometimes still choose the forbidden tree of knowledge. Not that knowledge is bad, but the desire to be right at all costs is, because it places our trust in ourselves and our own goodness and right-ness.

If we want to be right more than righteous and free, if we are so busy accusing and policing others, if we are wanting all of our steps micromanaged in safe assurance rather than risking the wild interlocking of freedom and obedience, we aren’t looking at Jesus.

But He’s the One we need to know.

And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling, and my speech and my message were not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.

– 1 Corinthians 2:1-5

pain…or, fear 2.0

Acute pain, whether it’s physical or emotional, can overshadow everything else. I’ve struggled for years with a terrible skin condition and sometimes my skin hurts so bad as the water hits it in the shower that all I can do is focus on breathing as the humidity sears my nerves.

The other night I sat in the shower and had this moment of wondering why I was still there, doing nothing…I realized it was because I still needed to shave, but I was dreading the action of reaching out and grasping the razor with my hand. In the back of my mind, I knew that curling my hand around it, no matter how lightly, would be even more painful because my skin cracks with the movement, and movement comes with pain.

Some people’s fire has died out because they learned that movement can come with pain – and it’s not always true, but in their eyes, for the times it has been true it’s made it not worth the risk of trying again. The pain is louder than everything else.

We think of the phrase “first love” and things like innocence, naivety, joy, even immaturity or childlikeness come to mind. But life has hard spots that tend to harden us and teach us to fear. We realize there’s more to love than sunshine and rainbows, and sometimes the clouds take over.

In my life, I’ve developed a fairly jaded view of adoption, especially compared to people who have no experience with it. It’s not something I’m proud of; it’s something God is currently, actively working in me to heal. But that jadedness and hardness comes from being burned, from trying and loving and pursuing, and being rejected and wounded and traumatized in return.

Ministry can be really, really hard on people, and on marriages and families. It’s not meant to be (just as adoption isn’t meant to be traumatic) but it is the nature of the battle. It takes a lot of solid, core-nurturing structures and supports in place for people to take on any critical mission and not get burned while they’re fighting on the front lines. So for these spiritually mature people we hold in high esteem who seem to have lost that fire, I wonder if something like that has happened. I wonder how many are wounded warriors who have seen too much and not known what to do with it – or they didn’t have a community to help them deal with it.

resistance…or, unwillingness to surrender

Have you heard the Lord ask you to do that one thing, but you put it off, and eventually just never did it?

Yes? In a way, that’s a good sign. Not because you disobeyed, but that you remember, because it means you still hear Him.

However, if the answer is no because you’re inclined to shove something nebulous that you don’t want to be reminded of back into its hiding place – something you don’t want to deal with, something you want to forget, something you have no intention of ever letting the Lord convict you about – that’s a bad sign. Because eventually we can silence the Lord’s volume in our life by not responding to it. Coolness and stagnation come from resisting the Spirit; we get calloused to His nudges and promptings.

Sometimes we’re guilty of a willingness to do many good and hard things just to avoid the one thing He’s calling us to grow in. And we put spiritual spins on it: Worshipers will sing rather than intercede. Intercessors will intercede rather than process, confess, or forgive. Servants may attend all the functions and do, do, do while avoiding deep study of the Word, and allowing it to do the work in them.

The good news is it takes only one second to turn the volume back up again, as fast as thought: Lord, I’m sorry. I want to hear and obey. Make me willing.

distance…or, lack of abiding

We are responsible for our own abiding and proximity, but we’re also meant to hold each other up. Let’s go back to the fire analogy: We can be around people on fire, or we can be around people dripping wet, and their effect on the atmosphere is likely to affect our burning, too. And some church communities (or friend groups, or families) are just not burning.

Some of us have forgotten what it means to burn so much that the slightest movement that’s warmer than lukewarm seems to be fire, and it’s good enough.

We do ebb and flow. And that’s why we need each other, why we need to be discerning about our closest friends and community.If I get burned so badly there’s nothing left in me to light on fire and I just feel like wet ashes, I have friends who can listen and show me what it is to be on fire but not be consumed. And when they need help, I can do that for them, too.

But if I’m around those who are contentedly not burning, they’ll pat me on the back and tell me it’s okay to lose my fire. And if that attitude takes hold and I stop abiding entirely, who will be around to rekindle me?

So we need to circulate and remind others who they are and how they’re meant to burn, but maybe be careful about not overdoing it – be aware of our own abiding, and keep returning to those we trust who remind us of who we are, because our own fires can be put out by too many wet blankets. We need Holy Spirit to blow through and bring oxygen to keep us aflame, but we need the Living Water to keep us from burning out, too. Abiding in Him will keep us firmly in the sweet spot: On fire, but not consumed.

Here’s who we are:

So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.

– Ephesians 2:19-22

We are the house on fire He dwells in.

We don’t demand the furniture be arranged just so; we trust He knows the best layout. We open the Word as He opens us, and the clutter starts to burn away: the distractions all over the counters, the misunderstandings and misconceptions laying every which way on the shelves, the regrets spilled all over the floor. He puts things in their right places, making sure some don’t take up more space than they’re supposed to and that others take their rightful place on display instead of hidden away in a dusty corner.

He creates restful order, sweeping out lies, opening the windows and letting fresh air in so the smoke blows out – leaving pure joy, holiness, and desire. We didn’t know we could survive the fire until we surrendered to it.

no dig: what happens when the light hits us

Posted on by June 27, 2024

I think we’ve started the no-dig method of gardening, but it was an accident.

Partly out of laziness, partly just not knowing anywhere better to toss the old coop bedding, we started throwing it on top of the garden beds as compost in the fall. Then we just planted in that same compost-turned-mostly-dirt in the spring. Not only did the gardens do better, but weeding was a piece of cake – there were hardly any weeds at all because the weed seeds were buried underneath and left dormant, rather than stirred up and activated. Those that did come up were pulled out with no effort because the soil was so loose and healthy.

no dig: what happens when the light hits us | Shannon Guerra

Unfortunately, the chickens and local rabbit have not observed our new no-dig policy and we’ve lost most of our zucchini as a result of their enthusiasm.

But other than their help, it’s been a perfect summer so far for gardening: Mostly sunny days, a little rain. We’re out there doing school on the lawn, playing with the chickens, reading in the deck chairs, wading in the kiddie pool. And lo and behold, I am tanner than I have ever been…which means I’m slightly darker than bleached white printer paper. (It’s the little things.) But still, I’m not just freckled or sunburned, and after a lifetime of skin issues I can feel things shifting in healthy ways I’ve never experienced before. I know I’m late to the game, but I finally understand the joy of feeling the sunlight sink into your bones – the warmth that fills the gaps deep within us as we realize, Yes, this is exactly what I’ve needed.

I never used to really care about getting out in the sun. Sensitive skin gets even more aggravated by bug bites and plant scratches; I didn’t want to get burned; staying inside was easier. Sunny days were cheerful, but nothing to really revel in.

Now though, we’re out there everyday and I notice things I never did – Oh look, that’s shepherd’s purse, and there’s wild mustard. There’s Peter Rabbit hiding in the raspberries. And above, two eagles flying over our house, circling so high they’re mere specks in a photo.

(In the center, right at the edge of the cloud, one above the other…so small you probably thought they were dirt on your screen. ;)

The speaker a few Sundays ago was from Pakistan, and his accent was a little difficult to catch but he talked about eagles and his points were spot on: Eagles fly above the storms, and their strength is in their diet – they eat fresh things, not dead things. Fear and doubt are dead things, so don’t feed on them.

I’ve been feeling my mindset shifting, learning to fly above the storm rather than to beat against the waves and be pummeled by the wind. Yes, xyz could happen, and yes, it could be devastating. The stakes are higher and scarier. But also yes, God is providing and healing and restoring. It’s like the open window of heaven is hovering right above me, waiting for my beliefs and attitudes to line up so breakthrough can pour down.

Search me, O God, and know my heart;
Try me, and know my anxieties;
And see if there is any wicked way in me,
And lead me in the way everlasting.

– Psalm 139:23-24, NKJV

It’s the Lord’s work, not mine; He is the one doing the searching and digging. But it’s also my perspective, my focus, my decision to not indulge in complaining or bitterness or self pity, my choice to look at Jesus and not the wind and waves around me.

It is the no-dig method of gardening in my heart, letting some things simmer and fade. Some issues do need pulled up and examined, but the healthier the soil is, the easier they come out, and minor offenses can be buried under other nutrients like love and forgiveness and surrender, smothered into nonexistence rather than stirring up old wounds that expand, proliferate, and scatter.

He knows that wounds and irritations are louder than quiet, everyday joys, and if we focus on them they magnify way out of proportion. He knows our default is to focus on the pain and frustration. We have a million great interactions with people, but if we have one or two painful ones that are filled with rejection or abuse, those hard experiences threaten all the other good ones in our future if we let them.

So He tells us to think on certain things – the beautiful, the pure, the lovely – and bury the irritations not out of irrational denial but in a gritty, deliberate focus to play it cool and stay postured for breakthrough. Focusing on the good things is a strategic covering; refusing to dig up and entertain the weeds keeps them down to size.

The digging is where I start looking too close, too deep, examining every little germ that might be my fault, might be why I deserved this, might explain why I need to go through this really hard thing because it’s for my own good since obviously I’m still just not humble, smart, wise, or holy enough yet. Striving and fear take over. The tightness in the throat, trying to get a deep breath, the feeling of not enough oxygen…but it’s not asthma, it’s anxiety.

Whatever you feed grows, the pastor said. Don’t feed the fear and doubts. Feed hope and life, feed on the Word of God. It is alive.

It’s His work, but I have to position myself to receive the benefits of it. And caving to fear or anything else that weakens faith will blow me out of the sweet spot every time.

It is a small view of God that makes us feel like we have to strive and dig and do all the things just to be in the right place at the right time, to navigate the confusion of the unknown, lest we miss the boat. The Lord will put us where we need to be, tell us the things we need to know, as long as we are yielded and willing.

So we do yield and surrender, and He peers in like the light that soaks into our bones, and we realize, Yes, this is exactly what I’ve needed. We’ve gotten used to living in the cold and the dark, and didn’t realize what we were missing out on. Or maybe we sort of did, but we sucked it up and dealt with it because we were used to the pain that’s always there – the grief, the disease, the abuse, the resignation, the attitude. This is our weather, our lot, our destiny, whatever.

We can take it, we tell ourselves. We can be tough, we can be longsuffering. It’s just one more thing; I can do this. We forget that we were made for more than the dark and cold.

But two things can be true at the same time. Yes, we can (and should be) longsuffering, but also, hope deferred makes the heart sick. Yes, we should carry our cross, but also, His yoke is easy and His burden is light.

So we choose the light, the warmth, the brightness and glory of His eye on us, as we are aligned and in position to receive the breakthrough He’s wanting to send.

I think all Christians would agree with me if I said that though Christianity seems at first to be all about morality, all about duties and rules and guilt and virtue, yet it leads you on, out of all that, into something beyond. One has a glimpse of a country where they do not talk of those things, except perhaps as a joke. Every one there is filled full with what we should call goodness as a mirror is filled with light. But they do not call it goodness. They do not call it anything. They are not thinking of it. They are too busy looking at the source from which it comes.

– C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

The Lord is bringing light and healing, revelation and joy to areas we’ve given up on and settled for. Ignoring pain isn’t our lot; living in the dark and cold isn’t our lot. It might be a season, but it’s not our destiny.

The belief that things could be different comes out like a little bit of sun, and we see it through the window and wonder what it would feel like on our skin. And sometimes we think, Nope, not worth it, it’s too bright and my sunglasses are all the way downstairs. I don’t want to deal with the bugs. I might get burned.

I never realized how cold I was until I stepped into the sun.

But the color is so glorious out there. It lures us. His kindness leads us to repentance and we are drawn and wooed by the warmth of the way things ought to be.

don’t mistake the middle for the end: a kindling post

Posted on by June 7, 2024

It’s hard to distinguish colors in the dark.

If you’re fighting depression, fear, anxiety, condemnation, or any of their cohorts, remember that not everything you’re thinking, feeling, and perceiving reflects reality.

Keep in mind that you’re fighting darkness, which obscures colors and lines. It blurs shapes and makes bright things gloomy.

It helps to not take darkness so seriously, to keep in mind that things are lighter and freer and more hopeful than they seem.

And knowing that makes a big difference.

Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.

For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will be seen upon you.

And nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising.

— Isaiah 60:1-3

Oh Beloved, did you forget who you are? Equipped and guided, led by a strong hand…looked after, held, watched over, affectionately favored by the King.

And I wonder if you’ve forgotten that you are a fighter, if the enemy has made you feel like your sword was too dangerous. So instead of wielding it better (which would hurt him) he convinced you to lay it aside entirely to be safe.

But God is not asking us to be safe or protect ourselves; He’s the one who is our safety and protection. You are a bold warrior and the Kingdom needs you out there. The enemy is desperate to keep you from the fight.

God is eager to pour out more mercy and grace to you. It’s what He paid for, and He wants the full reward of what He died for. So hey, Love…you would be inconsiderate not to take it.

It’s the lies of the enemy again that tell you, “Nope, you’ve had enough, stop getting in line for this, it’s someone else’s turn.” He’s hoping we’ll fall for that trick again, believing God is too small or too stingy or too limited to do and be everything He really is.

But we have to ask for more grace and mercy, because He’s already made it available to us. To act like we shouldn’t take it is to put our judgment above God’s.

He’s a good dad. He knows what we need. He wants us to ask for and receive it.

Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.

— Romans 5:2

When anxiety rears up, we tend to feel frantic, like we need to hurry up and do something even though we often have no idea what to do.

But God is not in a rush. That isn’t to say He doesn’t care, doesn’t know our need, or is having fun at our expense.

It means He already knows what’s on the next page, and He isn’t in a hurry to turn to it.

He knows how the answer is going to be revealed, and He knows exactly how stressed out you are in trying to anticipate it while you endure the unknowing.

You know why we’re not good at waiting? Because usually answers come so fast we don’t have time for anxiety. All the millions of little things that resolve themselves throughout the day (What do we get for a gift? What should this kid’s consequence be? Where will I put the broody chicken?) are not any bigger in His eyes than the big things we’re facing right now that also need answers.

We don’t think to even trust Him in those everyday things, but He is just as faithful in the big things. He’s showing us that we can trust Him, no matter what.

The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save;

he will rejoice over you with gladness;

he will quiet you by his love;

he will exult over you with loud singing.

—Zephaniah 3:17

The Lord knows that you’ve done what you could, but this situation still hasn’t turned out the way you wanted, dreamed, or expected it to. He knows you worked and prayed so hard to have it turn out differently.

It’s still turning out, though.

Don’t mistake this as the end when it’s still the middle. He’s not done yet, and neither are you.

Behold, I am doing a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.

— Isaiah 43:19

But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall.

—Malachi 4:2

Want the printable version? Here you go:

dont-mistake-the-end-for-the-middleDownload

Looking for more posts like this? Kindling is a series of prophetic devotionals and encouragement to relight your fire in the places it’s gone out, and they’re all here. Or subscribe to get everything right to your inbox.